Chapter 26 – Remi
Twenty-Six
Remi
Sunlight cuts through the massive windows of my condo like it’s a personal attack.
I groan and bury my face deeper into the couch cushion, my entire body aching from yesterday’s disaster. My knuckles are bruised, my side throbs with every deep breath, and sleeping on this sofa instead of my bed didn’t help.
The smell of coffee drifts through the living room along with the sound of cabinet doors opening and closing.
“You’re alive.” A man’s voice carries from the kitchen, and panic shoots through me for one horrifying second before I recognize it.
Matteo.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask, lifting my head just enough to glare at him over the back of the couch.
“Valentina,” he calls out from near my espresso machine. “She said she’d be back later and told me to watch out for you.”
Rolling my eyes, I drag myself upright, immediately regretting the motion.
I love Matteo. He’s probably the most tolerable pain in my ass after Giovanni, but he’s definitely not the person I wanted to see first thing in the morning after the night I had.
When I finally made it home, I couldn’t get into the shower fast enough. I turned the water up until my skin was red, desperate to wash away the feeling of county holding cells and stale concrete. A few hours in lockup were enough to make sure I never wanted to go through that shit again.
Valentina insisted on staying the night to keep me company and to figure out our next move with Rafe. We went over everything that happened at Furia, who might know something, and why he’d been avoiding me since the attack.
Somehow, talking about a man who may have helped set me up to be killed was easier than talking about Thiago and all the ways he’s starting to fuck with my head.
Exhaustion eventually won, but I didn’t stay asleep for long. Nightmares I hadn’t had in years crawled back, dragging me straight into the worst night of my life. Ryuji was dying in my arms again, blood everywhere as I tried uselessly to hold him together while the pavement beneath us turned red.
I left Val asleep in my bed sometime before sunrise and curled up on the couch with some random rerun of Criminal Minds playing in the background. Eventually, I drifted off again. Only this time, when the dream came back, Ryuji wasn’t the one bleeding out in my arms.
Thiago was.
Even thinking about it now knots my stomach. I force the image away and leave Matteo to fend for himself as I disappear into the shower, letting the hot water beat against my skin until some of the exhaustion finally eases.
I emerge wearing bike shorts and one of Gio’s oversized T-shirts I stole a few months ago.
Matteo is sprawled across my sofa, flipping through channels.
He hands me a mug the second I drop down beside him.
I breathe in the steam curling from the mug, and it smells like productivity and emotional survival.
“Who else knows?” I ask before taking my first sip.
“Just me and Gio.” His attention shifts from the television to me. “But don’t you think we should tell everyone? This could be connected to the same people from four years ago, Rem.”
“I know.”
His eyebrows pull together. “And why are they only going after you?”
I shrug, then set my cup of coffee down. “I’ll fill everyone in today.”
Matteo goes quiet for a moment before glancing at the blanket still tangled at the other end of the couch.
“You slept out here?”
“Eventually.”
“With Val in your bed?”
“Why are you asking so many questions before I’ve had a chance to drink my coffee?”
“Because I know you.” He stares at me for another second. “You okay?”
“It wasn’t that bad,” I lie, offering him a smile.
“Sure it wasn’t.” His expression tells me he doesn’t believe a word of it, but thankfully, he knows me well enough not to push me when I’m not ready to talk. Leaning in, he presses a kiss to my cheek. “You know you don’t always have to pretend you’re fine with us, right?”
“I’m not pretending.”
“Right.”
I shove his shoulder, and he laughs as he gets to his feet.
“I gotta go. I promised Zara I’d bust her out of dance camp today and take her to the zoo.”
I laugh as I follow him toward the door, leaving my untouched coffee on the table.
“Didn’t they just get back into town two days ago? And you’re already pulling her out?”
“That,” he says smugly as he grabs his keys, “is exactly what I’m here for.”
“You’re a terrible influence.”
“I prefer fun older brother.”
“Of course you do.” I pull him into a hug. “Give Zara a big kiss from me and tell her I’ll see her soon.”
“Will do.”
With one last squeeze, Matteo disappears into the hallway.
It isn’t until I close my front door that something clicks. If no one knows about my arrest, how the hell did the charges get dropped so quickly? I hurry across the living room to find my phone. Val needs to know, but maybe Maksim pulled strings without telling her.
“That has to be it,” I mutter to myself.
The second I unlock my screen, a knock echoes through the condo, and I turn toward the door, assuming Matteo has probably forgotten something.
“I’m coming,” I yell, hopping over an ottoman and jogging across the room for the second time in less than a minute.
Expecting to find my cousin, I swing open the door, only to come face-to-face with the very man I spent half the night dreaming about, bleeding to death in my arms.
All I can do is stare at Thiago while my brain catches up with the fact that he’s actually standing here.
I peer around his shoulder before glancing down at my phone. “How did you get up here? I never received a notification.”
He tries to step forward, but I don’t budge. I always have to tilt my head back to look at this man, and I hate what that alone does to my insides.
“Matteo let me up,” he says, making another attempt to cross the threshold.
Of course Matteo fucking did. He gave me no warning or heads-up, just casually delivered a six-foot-six emotional crisis to my front door.
I place my hands on my hips and scowl at him. I can’t tell whether I’m pissed at Thiago or just angry at life and everything swirling around me right now. It doesn’t help that every time I look at his face, I see the nightmare.
“What do you want?”
“To talk.”
“Look, I’m not exactly in the mood for guests. I have important things to deal with and—”
“Remi, we both know that’s bullshit.”
My mouth parts. “Excuse you?”
“I just want to talk,” he says, his voice gentler. “Give me ten minutes, and then I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”
Something inside me finally snaps.
“No. You don’t get to show up here and decide when I have to talk to you.” I step closer, and all the frustration I’ve been choking down since last night suddenly spills out.
“I was chased through the fucking county by cops, Braga. I was cuffed, shoved into a holding cell, and spent hours staring at concrete walls.”
A flash of guilt crosses his face, but I’m not done.
“And now I wake up to another cop at my fucking door telling me he wants to talk?” I let out a sharp laugh. “Read the room.”
“Remi, I’m not here as a cop.”
“I don’t care what you’re here as.” I point toward the hallway. “I want you to leave.”
“Just give me a chance to explain.”
“I don’t want an explanation, Braga. I want you gone.”
I turn away from him, but his fingers close around my wrist. My gaze drops to his hand, then slowly lifts to his face.
“Let. Go.”
“Remi, just listen to me.”
“I said let go.”
He doesn’t, and that’s the last fucking straw.
I spin and drive my fist straight into his abdomen, or into the brick wall cosplaying as one. Pain shoots through my already-bruised knuckles, but I ignore it.
I was trained better than that.
My next punch lands on his ribs and finally draws a grunt from him.
“Remi, stop.”
But now I’m the one not listening.
I twist out of his grip and drive my elbow toward his jaw. He catches my forearm before it can connect, so I pivot and sweep my leg behind his knee, knocking him off balance by a step.
“Remi…”
Ripping free, I throw another punch straight at his throat. Thiago blocks it, but not cleanly, and my knuckles clip his jaw, snapping his head to the side.
“That all you got, Officer?” I hiss.
His head turns slowly back toward me, and the fire in his eyes pushes all the wrong buttons. Then he comes at me for real.
Thiago catches my wrist again, but I move with him instead of fighting against his strength. I twist beneath his arm, drive my fist into his ribs, and slam my shoulder into his chest.
He barely fucking moves.
Most men would already be on the floor by now, but Thiago absorbs the hit and looks down at me as if I just confirmed something he’s been wondering about.
“Jesus,” he mutters, sounding almost impressed.
My gaze darts to the foyer table and the hidden compartment beneath it, where I keep one of my blades.
Thiago follows my eyes.
I move anyway, but I barely take two steps before his arm hooks around my waist and yanks me back against him. I drive my elbow behind me, catching part of his ribs, but he holds on as I twist and fight to get free.
“Remi, enough.”
“Fuck you.”
Planting my foot, I use his weight against him, throwing us both off balance. We crash onto the hardwood together, and the impact knocks the air from my lungs.
I immediately try to roll away, but Thiago recovers faster.
He catches both my wrists now and pins them beside my head before I can get enough leverage to throw him off. His body settles over mine as we fight to catch our breaths, neither of us willing to look away.
Any other man would’ve caught a bullet long before we ever got here. But Thiago doesn’t scare me, and that’s precisely the fucking problem. I know what it feels like when someone is trying to hurt me. This isn’t that. This is something far more dangerous.
It’s foreplay.
And if the look in his eyes is anything to go by, he knows exactly what this has become, too.
“You’re fucking heavy,” I hiss, arching my back in a useless attempt to throw him off.